This outpouring of affection would have startled the Queen

I have to admit that I’ve never seen anything like the outpouring of affection for Queen Elizabeth II and her family in the 35 years I’ve been reporting on royal events.

In London, there has been none of the raw grief we had when Diana died. This has been more controlled, more respectful and altogether more fitting to mark the life of a woman who held her own emotions in check, but was passionately committed to the people of this nation and the other countries she was head of state of.

Essentially a modest person, she would have been startled by the outpouring of affection over the past few days. Last Tuesday, I was outside RAF Northolt to see her body being driven back to London. I was expecting half a dozen hardy souls to join me by the side of the A40, not the thousand or so gathered in the steady evening drizzle.

Traffic on the motorway and side roads ground to a halt. I dumped the car on a grass verge and ran the last half mile. As the royal hearse passed by, with the royal standard glowing under spotlights and giving a splash of colour, there were shouts of “God bless the Queen” and a growing round of applause.

I saw the Princess Royal biting her lip through the rain-spattered windows of her car, clearly surprised by the number of people. From the nearby bridge over the M40, I looked down and saw hundreds of abandoned vehicles, with men and women running through the traffic to catch a glimpse of this history in the making.

I was in the capital the following day for the procession to Westminster Hall. As King Charles III drove out of Clarence House to the palace, there were shouts of “God save the King”, renditions of the national anthem and more applause. It was an echo of a bygone age that had me totally surprised, with modern day cynicism brushed under the carpet – at least for this week while we honoured the Queen.

As the cortège passed by, there was no shouting or applause from where I was in the Mall outside Clarence House. Instead, there was the rhythmic beat of guardsmen’s boots, the crunch of the gun carriage wheels and the affecting funeral anthems of Beethoven, Mendelssohn and Chopin.

Behind it came our new King, who has slid seamlessly into his role, just as the Queen herself did back in 1952, when she was a 25-year-old wife and mother. Princess Anne again looked pained, and William and Harry were clearly lost in thought. Another moving sight was the upright figure of the Queen’s favourite member of staff, Paul Whybrew, her 62-year-old page, who memorably starred in her James Bond spoof in 2012. Loyal to the end, “Tall Paul” as she dubbed him, was by her side in her final days at Balmoral. More than staff, he had, in recent years, become a close friend and would even sit and watch TV with her.

Hundreds watched the ceremony on TV screens in Hyde Park, as they had for Diana’s funeral in 1997. Others headed for Green Park where flowers were being laid – not in a vast sea as they had been for the princess, but in circles of colour around tree after tree. What was surprising was that people of all ages were there, pausing to lay a tribute, to read cards and messages and occasionally shed a tear. Here and there, were Paddington Bears and the odd marmalade sandwich which, in her hilarious jubilee video just three months ago, endeared the Queen to her younger fans and to the child in us all.

I also made sure I was part of that other, far longer procession, to witness the lying-in-state. I got off lightly with a mere nine-hour wait. It wasn’t a mournful experience, but rather a chance to swap memories of the Queen – whether we’d seen her face to face or, more usually, as a white glove through a car window.

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The British love a queue and this was a good-natured one, with lots of place saving as we nipped off to the loo or grabbed a coffee. I met a family from Australia who loved the Queen and said there is a bit of a “thing” over there about William and Kate, the monarchy’s golden couple.

Inside Westminster Hall, there was a feeling of hushed reverence as we walked down carpeted steps into this ancient building that has witnessed coronation banquets, the trial of Charles I, addresses to parliament by leaders from Nelson Mandela to Barack Obama, and now the lying-in-state of our much-loved Queen. I bowed and said “thank you Ma’am”. Others curtsied or crossed themselves.

What struck me in London was the need to be together. There was something comforting about being with the crowds. There was such a feeling of affection for the new King and Queen Consort Camilla, who have both had a rocky ride with public affection over the years. There was a feeling of healing when Prince Harry marched in time alongside his brother, and even Prince Andrew was brought back into the royal fold, which would have gladdened his mother’s heart.

How long will this feeling of family and national unity last? No one knows. What matters is that, in this watershed moment in our island history, we are saying the most fitting and loving of farewells to Elizabeth II, who served her people so well for 70 years and whose passing has been marked in the way she surely deserved.

Ian Lloyd is the author of The Queen: 70 Chapters in the Life of Elizabeth II